They had been on the road for more than a month, and they were hungry. Impa had done everything she could to feed them both, but nuts and berries and wild mushrooms could only go so far, and there wasn't the time to hunt for meat. The further into Termina they went, the denser the population grew and the riskier it became to light a fire. It was Zelda who drove them on through wind and rain, despite her injuries and her slim little body so unused to such exertion. Impa had given up treating her like a child because she refused to act like one, and so the Sheikah and the princess marched on from dawn until dusk without ever stopping except to hide when strangers came by, eating whatever small handfuls they could forage, sleeping in caves and under trees with nothing but each other for warmth. It was, by Impa's count, forty days precisely since their midnight flight from Hyrule Castle when they finally reached Carveh, the castle city of Termina.

Zelda sat in the cover of the trees and watched the city's main gate as Impa changed into her Sheikah gear. She cleared her throat. "How will we get in?"

"I can get us to the castle," Impa replied. "Sheikah rights. I'll take you directly to the King. From there…"

Zelda looked down at herself – patched clothing, blistered feet, hands and legs scraped from weeks of trekking through undergrowth. Her skin and hair were darkened with grime, and her lips torn and ragged as her clothes. "Whoever would believe I am the rightful queen of Hyrule?" She wondered aloud, then sighed. "Well, I doubt a bath would help much. I have the royal songs, at least. And this," she added, lightly touching her hand. The burns of the Triforce had gone a long way towards healing, but she had no doubt she would carry the scar forever. She had wrapped a strip torn from her cloak around it as a makeshift bandage. "Though what that could possibly prove to someone who doesn't know the lore…"

Impa came out from behind the tree, looking far less filthy in her Sheikah gear. The blue of the fabric was bright and clean, the steel shining as though freshly polished. It was a scrap of rag that tied back her silver hair, but aside from that she almost looked fresh from the battlefield. "I can vouch for you," she said. "Any Sheikah would vouch for me."

"There are Sheikah in Termina?"

"Very few. Exiles, mostly. War criminals and their descendants no longer permitted into the land of Hyrule, but for the sake of their honour there are many who still serve."

"And we can trust them?"

Impa bit her lip, then sighed. "They'd chose you over Ganon, that much I can promise. As for the rest… well, it's clear you're no ordinary girl. Hopefully that will help."

They were halted at the gate by the two soldiers in attendance, one very young and anxious-faced and the other old, bearded and stern. Impa did not give them time to speak. "Sheikah business in the name of the throne of Hyrule. I'll thank you for a horse."

Both men were taken aback by her brusqueness. The younger moved to obey, but the older stopped him with a small gesture and looked Impa up and down, taking in her tribe clothing and lingering on the crest around her neck. "The king of Hyrule is dead," he said thoughtfully.

"His line has not ended."

The guard's eyes flickered to Zelda, who met them evenly, for the first time suddenly embarrassed by her filthy, ragged looks. She took a breath and straightened up, reminding herself who she was. It's a state dinner, she whispered in her mind. Just another state dinner surrounded by people who think I'm some ordinary child. Just a few more people I have to prove myself to. Her face must have changed somehow, for the guard frowned, and turned back to Impa. "You've come to see the King."

"Sheikah business," Impa repeated, her face impassive. The guard snorted.

"When I was a lad I asked my father what the Sheikah were. He said they'd searched so hard for the truth they forgot what they wanted to do with it. He said the truth froze their hearts." Impa remained still as a statue. The guard shrugged, then hammered on the door of the guard house and called for men to replace him. "I've heard a rumour that in certain circles there's a price on the heads of a lady Sheikah travelling with a young blonde girl. I'll escort you. I don't want murder on my streets."

"Have you ever heard of a Sheikah murdered on the streets?"

"It was a very high price."

He brought them out a horse each, but Zelda rode with Impa instead. As they traversed the wide, crowded cobbled streets the old guard, who introduced himself as Raley, told them how word had come by messenger bird of the fall of Hyrule several weeks ago, how the Gerudo lord Ganon had crowned himself king reagent in the absence of his fiancé, the last daughter of the royal line, and how he now had his men tearing the kingdom apart looking for her. "Gerudo are funny about betrothals, you see," Raley tried to explain. "By their laws it's the same as marriage, so if the royal line dies out he'd inherit everything as Princess Zelda's… well, her husband, in their eyes. And the desert tribes pillage each other all the time, they wouldn't see that as any reason to break off the engagement. They probably think that makes it official." He paused. "They say his mother's a witch."

Zelda said nothing, trying to remember what she could of Gerudo law. She knew that many of the tribes practised marriage by abduction, but that was all she could remember. After over a month of waiting for this moment, now she was having trouble focussing. The guards on the castle's front gates threw them puzzled glances, but did not challenge Raley.

The King of Termina was to be found in a lesser dining hall entertaining several guests. The guards on the door tried to stop them but with cold precision Impa knocked them both out of the way, shoved open the doors and marched into the hall, leaving the stunned Raley in her wake. Zelda followed with her head held high, trying to act thoroughly used to the situation. Just another formal affair, she told herself. I'm wearing a gown and heeled shoes. I bathed this morning. I'm not at all hungry.

"I am Impa Sè Kakariko of the Sheikah tribe, servant to the true ruler of Hyrule. I present to you Zelda Adriana of the House of Harkinian, the rightful Queen of Hyrule, come to hold you to your family's vows. I suggest you put your dinner on hold."

She hadn't stopped or even slowed until she stood with her hands on the table, looking down at the king from barely a few feet away. Zelda did not rush to keep up with her, trying to appear calm instead. She had never seen that side of Impa before; the woman was frighteningly comfortable nose to nose with a king, giving barely disguised orders. For a moment he stared up at her, his fork halfway to his slightly open mouth, but recovered quickly.

"Thank you," he said firmly to his guests, who all sat or stood in varying states of shock. Many made for the door at once. A few made to protest, but the king only thanked them again, this time with a note of impatience, and waved them away. Only once they had all left did he rise to his feet. He was tall, far taller than Impa, and older than Zelda's father by a long way – white of hair and beard, but moving with confidence in his still-sturdy body. "Impa Sè Kakariko," he acknowledged her with a slight incline of his head, then looked past her to the child. He hadn't even seen her behind the Sheikah. "Princess Zelda?" He now asked incredulously. She bobbed a small curtsey, handling the torn skirt as though it were pure silk.

"King Eilon," she replied evenly. "I am afraid I do not recall our last meeting." With every word she regretted her days-long silences for the past few weeks; her throat was painfully sore and dry, and she did not realise how far her aristocratic accent had slipped until she made a conscious effort to return to it.

"Well, you'd barely learned to walk," he said, struggling to recover from shock. She looked for all the world like an orphan beggar, the kind a man held onto his purse as he walked past, but from that battered, thin little body came the voice of royalty, and out of that grubby face shone eyes more clear and intelligent than any he had ever seen. "Forgive me. Do you have proof of who you are?"

"I hardly expected you to recognise me," she said with a smile that drew a drop of blood from her cracked lips. "Unfortunately I had nothing but my nightgown when we fled the castle, but I offer you the word of this Sheikah warrior, sworn to the protection of my family. If that is not enough I can play you one of the family's sacred songs if you lend me a harp or ocarina."

The king glanced over at Impa, then looked again at the child, this time willing himself to see past the layers of grime. He imagined her clean and pale, hair shining golden and lips pink and full, her face a little rounder and not so drawn with hunger, her eyes without those deep black hollows beneath them. Yes, there it was. He smiled back at her. "Your fathers eyes watch me from your mother's face," he said simply, then gave her a deep bow, the slight flinch as he straightened the first sign he had shown of a body weakening with age. "I grieve for them both."

"So do I."

For a while he carried on just looking at her. Something about her puzzled him; she had to be, what, ten, eleven years old? She seemed so much older – not physically, but in other subtle ways. Something in her was dark and cynical as a veteran jailer. "I expect you'd welcome a bath, a hot meal and a soft bed before we discuss my family's vows," he said eventually.

"Thank you."

For the first time he acknowledged the old soldier still in the room. "Raley, see the princess treated with the greatest respect," he ordered. "Impa Sè Kakariko, you may go to the guardhouse and be welcome there."

Impa did not move. The tension she had sparked with her entrance began once more to gather like a cloud. "I serve the rightful queen of Hyrule," she said coolly. "Only she may dismiss me."

Zelda barely glanced back up at the king. "I prefer you by my side," she said simply, and felt more than saw the king's frown. Countermanding him in his own castle, she realised, was likely not the wisest thing she could have done, but as soon as the idea had been suggested she realised she could not stand the thought of being alone now.


After the princess and her Sheikah bodyguard had been led away Eilon sat back at his table and finished his meal, but found the succulent food suddenly unwelcome. She was who she said she was, that much was certain. But what to do with that? She was still so young. The child probably had some naïve notion that he would go to war for her and recover her kingdom. Overthrow the Gerudo sorcerer who had conquered the Kingdom of Hyrule in a single night? He took an uncharacteristically deep gulp of wine as he considered the thought. Certainly not – suicide, for the king and for Termina – but still, the girl was royalty. Perhaps he could shelter her, but he knew how avidly Ganon, who had already crowned himself King of Hyrule, was searching for his princess. Would he go to war to win her back? Would he rather kill her than risk her running free? The troublesome thing about exiled children, Eilon thought as he stared into the fire, was that if nobody dealt with them they tended to grow up. Dealt with them… and then another thought occurred to him. Pirates plagued the beaches, and the mountain watch towers were crumbling. His coffers were almost dangerously bare. He'd heard rumour of the sum this Ganon would pay for Princess Zelda dead. Just how much more might he pay for her alive? His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch when he realised that whatever the sum, it would probably come from Zelda's own family treasury. Eilon of Termina considered himself a man of honour. He spent a very long time considering what exactly that meant. After all, he realised as the fire burned low, almost everything was honourable to someone.